


it's bliss

by MissMarissa



Series: Appropriation [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, bc this post-apocalypse and they don't know what that is, clarke bathes, informal power play, little bit of plot, set after 3x04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:47:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMarissa/pseuds/MissMarissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you always make it a practice to leave your door open at night?  That doesn’t seem wise.”</p><p>He chuckles, “Maybe I left it open for a reason.”</p><p>Clarke needs a release... Roan offers to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's bliss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bamboozled214](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamboozled214/gifts).



> For Nikki (@abeautifulbroom) for the 100 rare pairs exchange :)

Clarke walks quietly through the halls of the tower at Polis.  She’s not a prisoner here anymore, but she isn’t exactly familiar with the place, and certainly not used to walking around without an escort.  Still, she’s restless.  The day was stressful, to say the least. 

Queen Nia’s attempt to eliminate Lexa as commander ended dramatically in her own demise.  Clarke isn’t sure exactly how she feels about Lexa at this point, but one fact is undeniable: The safety of her people depends on Lexa being alive.  She isn’t sure how much she can trust her, but the alternative would have been Nia in charge, and that would have meant certain death for the sky people. 

Every moment of the fight between Roan and Lexa was tense.  The fate of her people rested in the combat skills of a girl who she had yet to see truly fight.  She had no faith that Lexa would be able to hold her own against Roan, who just a week before, had effortlessly cut down three attackers without breaking a sweat.  She even went so far as to work behind the scenes to eliminate Nia, which given the short time she had to kill her, she’s not surprised it didn’t work.  Still, she had to try.  Never had she been more relieved to hear the words, “Long live the king.” 

When Lexa came to visit her room this evening, there was clearly more on her mind than a friendly visit, but Clarke isn’t ready to go there with her.  She can’t risk the lives of her people for… whatever that is.  Not with a Commander whose actions and loyalties seem to shift on whim.  Not that it wasn’t tempting.  She suppresses a groan when she thinks about how badly she needs a _release_ right now. 

Her thoughts are interrupted by the flickering of lights coming from a room far down the corridor.  She makes her way down and stops in front of the doorway to take in the view of the new King of Azgeda.  His back is to the doorway, and Clarke can’t help but think that it’s unwise to be so vulnerable and ill-prepared.  His boots are propped up on a table while he absentmindedly twirls a knife in one hand.  He pauses a moment and she watches his rough fingers trace the fine decorative details that grace the handle.  

“Can’t sleep?” 

Clarke is almost startled by his rough voice but swallows her surprised gasp, “Looks like I’m not the only one.”  Roan nods slowly, still not looking up from the knife or turning around to face her.  She steps cautiously into the room and takes it in.  Like her own, it’s a room fit for royalty.  Let it be said that Polis treats their guests well when they want to.  “Do you always make it a practice to leave your door open at night?  That doesn’t seem wise.” 

He chuckles, “Maybe I left it open for a reason.” 

Clarke raises an eyebrow, increasingly irritated that he won’t turn around, “What if someone wanted to kill you?  It’d be so easy…”  She tilts her head, “Your back to the doorway-” Her speech is cut off by the sharp sound of two blades whirring by her head and lodging themselves in the wall behind her.  Clarke’s eyes widen when she sees Ontari step into the light, staring daggers at her.  The girl is small but fierce and Clarke makes a note not to be caught alone with her.  Actually, she’s not loving her odds even with Roan in the room.  Her body tenses up as she spins a plan in her head to retreat without losing her own head. 

“Relax, Wanheda.” 

Clarke scoffs, “Easy for you to say, you don’t have that one flinging blades at you.” 

Roan chuckles, “Not today…”  He finally slides his feet off the table, then stands up and turns around to face her.  Ontari snarls and says something under her breath that Clarke doesn’t quite catch.  Roan growls something back and Ontari huffs, brushing past Clarke with a glare as she leaves the room.  Clarke is not surprised by the bang of the the heavy doors as Ontari slams them closed on her way out.  She does’t really blame Ontari.  Just a few hours ago, she attempted to kill the girl’s queen right in front of her. 

Clarke takes a deep breath as she walks farther into the room and asks, “I thought nightblood children were supposed to come to Polis.  How did Ontari slip through the cracks?” 

He smirks, “Do you think she’s the only nightblood to evade Polis?”  Clarke furrows her brows and waits for him to continue.  “Some parents do not wish to send their young here, knowing that they will be trained to fight other nightbloods to the death in an attempt to ascend to the commander’s throne.  Instead, they keep their children hidden.  They can’t risk letting their youth bleed, lest they be discovered.” 

Clarke nods and thinks of Octavia, hidden under the floor for nearly sixteen years in an attempt to avoid detection and unknown fate. 

“Did _you_ know about Ontari?  Being a night blood?”

He nods, “I taught her most of what she knows.” 

“How did she end up with Nia?” 

“She was an orphan.  Seven years old when she stole from a street vendor.  During her attempted escape, she was cut and the vendor spotted the black blood.  He brought her to my mother and was paid handsomely for his discovery.” 

Clarke’s voice elevates slightly, “And you were just going to let Nia do that?  Dethrone Lexa and put her own psychotic bitch in command?” 

Roan smirks, “Even I knew better than to get in the way of Nia’s hunger for power.  Had she been successful, and she very nearly was, I wasn’t going to put myself on the wrong side.  This was a plan she had in place since before I can remember.  Long before Lexa was Commander.”  He sighs, “There was a time when I believed in my mother’s cause.”

“You don’t anymore?” 

“Things change.” 

Clarke nods, “Do you intend to keep the ice nation loyal to the coalition?”  She adds, “Even after Lexa rescinded the deal she made with you when you… delivered me to her?”

He shrugs, “She gave me a kingdom.  I’d say that makes up for it.”  After a moment, “Lexa knows our power, she would be stupid to try and defy us.”  He adds, “Unlike my mother, I do not see the need for bloodshed when my people are not in danger.”  Well.  That’s good to know.

“So is Ontari now _your_ guard dog?”   

Roan smirks, “I don’t put her on a leash.” 

“Maybe you should.” 

He barks out a laugh, “I didn’t take you for someone with a sense of humor.” 

“What makes you think I’m joking?”  She really isn’t.

Roan slowly crosses the room, “Maybe you aren’t.”  He smirks, “But you have nothing to fear.  She may not like you, or _me_ for that matter, but she will not defy her king.”

Clarke considers this, “If Ontari became commander, she would outrank you.”

He smirks, “Let’s just say you are not the only one who would like to avoid Ontari on the commander’s throne.” 

“Would you keep her from attending a conclave?”

“It is her birthright to fight for the Commander’s throne.  It is not up to me to keep her from it.” 

Clarke juts out her chin, “Well, what’s in it for you?  Why keep her from killing me now?”

“Skikru may be vulnerable in terms of defenses against our armies, but your people and technology are a formidable asset.  It’s in the best interest of my people to maintain… productive relations with yours.” 

The corners of Clarke’s mouth twitch into a smirk as she nods, “That makes sense.” 

She glances around the room again and finds herself distracted by the gauzy curtains as they catch in the breeze.  When she looks forward again, she finds Roan’s towering frame just inches in front of her own. 

She inhales sharply, “Is that all?”

He shakes his head slowly, a smile playing on his lips (upon which she may or may not be fixated), “I may have other reasons.” 

Clarke is suddenly very, very aware of his proximity, of her pounding pulse rate, of the rush of blood in her ears, her very _real_ need to get laid.  He isn’t touching a single part of her, yet she feels every bit of the electricity between them. 

Her voice is barely above a whisper, “Such as?” 

Roan’s tone is low, his voice graveled as it surrounds her.  “I might like you.” 

She finally tears her eyes from his lips and locks onto his gaze, “You tried to kill me.” 

He smirks, “I think you have that backwards.”  He chuckles, “It is _you_ tried to kill _me_.”  He leans even closer, his lips brush the shell of her ear, “Twice.”  A sharp shiver shoots through her when his breath fans down her neck, and he pulls his head back with a smirk. 

She shrugs, the slight motion pushing her body closer to his.  “We’re both still here.” 

She’s not sure who moves first, but the small gap between them is immediately closed as their lips crash together.  It’s neither tender nor frantic, but something in between.  As if their mouths are a conduit for an electric current that runs between them.  The kiss quickly deepens as she opens her mouth to his and she groans at the ferocity with which he licks into her. 

She can’t fucking _wait_ to see what else he can do with that tongue. 

His hands come to frame her face, then sweep the matted strands out of the way.  She gasps at the sharp pains to her scalp as he disentangles his fingers from her hair. 

He chuckles against her lips, “Sorry.” 

She shakes her head in annoyance and grabs the twisted strands in her own hand as she pulls away, “I hate these.” 

He pulls his face away to look at her again before nodding toward the adjoining room, “Follow me.” 

Clarke frowns as he takes her hand and leads her into a wash room even larger than her own.  He nods toward the bathtub, already filled with steaming hot water.  As she looks at it, her skin itches for cleanliness.  The whole week she was locked up, she didn’t trust Lexa’s people to set a bath for her without lining the tub with shards of glass or filling it with acid.  Although Lexa made it clear that she wasn’t to be harmed, no one in Polis appeared to be the least bit fond of Wanheda.  So, Clarke was hesitant, to put it mildly, when it came to tubs or anything else big enough to drown in.  There was only so much she could do with the bowls and pitchers she found.  She’s given priority to caring for the wound on her shoulder, which is nearly healed due to the care she’s given it.  But, cleaning her wounds thoroughly didn’t leave much to clean the rest of herself.  The people here haven’t been helpful about providing other containers, not that she’d asked them. 

For some reason, though, she doesn’t give a second thought to any danger getting into _this_ tub.  Maybe it’s because it wasn’t prepared for her, so she thinks it’s probably safe.  Or maybe it’s just because she’s had enough of the layer of dirt and grime covering her skin. 

She gives Roan a questioning glance and he chuckles, “Get in.” 

He’s barely finished with the words before she’s tearing the clothes off her body.  Three months ago, she wouldn’t have so brazenly stripped naked in front of another person, but a lot has changed since then.  _She_ has changed since then.  If Roan is surprised by her sudden nudity, his face makes no indication of it.  She brings her fingers to the random braids in her hair and sets to work unraveling them while she steps into the hot water.  Roan hasn’t moved from the doorway, where he watches her carefully.  She’s surprised to see that he isn’t raking his gaze along her bare body, and can’t decide if it’s insulting that he’s ignoring her nudity. 

“Help me get these out,” she demands as she tugs on some still-intact braids.  “I can’t see where all of them are.” 

He crosses the room with controlled steps until he’s standing behind her, as close as he can be without standing in the tub himself.  He brings his hands to her hair and assists her with the task. 

After inspecting the matted mess, he confirms, “They’re all unbraided.” 

She gives a relieved smile, “Thank you.”  Without wasting another moment, she drops to her knees so she can submerge the rest of her body in the water.  And oh, god, she feels so much better already.  When her head is finally under the surface, a sense of peace overcomes her, a welcome quiet settles over her mind.  She relishes the sense of _nothingness_ afforded her by the water in her ears…  Suddenly, she feels fingers that are not her own tug on her scalp and pull her head out of the water. 

Roan looks slightly alarmed when she opens her eyes and blinks the water out of them.  “Do you always try to drown yourself?” 

Clarke frowns, “I wasn’t drowning.  I was –” She can’t come up with the words she wants.  “It doesn’t matter, but I wasn’t drowning.”    

He nods but narrows his eyes skeptically, “If you say so.”

She sighs as she reaches for a bottle of something and brings it to her nose, she takes a whiff of the pleasant herbal contents.  “What’s this one for?”  

“It’s for your skin.”  She clutches the bottle close to herself, then picks up another one and holds it up to silently ask the same question. 

“It’s for your hair, to clean and soften it.”  Roan takes the container from her hands and pours some of its contents into his own calloused palms, then rubs them together and massages it into the matted strands.  “It will also get rid of these... colors.” 

Clarke huffs, “Okay.”  While Roan continues to work the substance through her hair, she uses the body cleanser to wash away layers of dirt and oil.  With each scouring pass of her hands, her skin breathes a little easier, and she’s pleased to note that the nearly healed wound on her shoulder is no longer painful. 

She sees Roan’s bare arm in her peripheral view, and it doesn’t dawn on her until just now that he’s shed a layer of clothing.  She turns her head farther and realizes, with some disappointment, that he is still wearing a shirt.  And pants.  She’ll have to take care of that soon, but for now she’ll just enjoy the bath… She considers for a moment the strangeness of the situation – being bathed by a _king_.  But, absurdity has become something of the norm for her nowadays.  When he massages the cleanser into her scalp, she lets go a ragged moan.  She’s so absorbed in the blissful sensation she almost misses the way he clenches his fingers against her head.  Amused, she releases another groan, just to feel his restraint falter just a little more. 

Finally he’s finished, and she feels a heavy stream of water flow over her newly cleansed locks, soothing her scalp even further.  

The graveled tone of his voice has her aroused and on edge, “Now that’s better.” 

She smiles, amused, when she recalls those words a week ago, spoken as he pulled her head out from the water after nearly drowning her, in retaliation for her attempted strangling and drowning just prior.  In hindsight, she probably should have been a little bit more discerning before stepping into this man’s wash tub.  But for some reason, she believes him when he says he poses no danger to her. 

Clarke opens her eyes, “Thank you.”  After a moment, she turns to face him, “Really, I wasn’t trying to drown myself or anything earlier…  It’s just nice, not being able to hear anything beyond the rush of water.  That kind of silence doesn’t happen very often…  Not anymore.” 

Roan gives her an understanding nod, “I see.” 

She snaps her eyes to his, “You see what?”

“I see what you need.”

She cocks an eyebrow, “Oh?  And what’s that?” 

“You need to let go.” 

“Is that right?”  She can’t suppress a huff of laughter, unsure if she’s amused or embarrassed by the accuracy of his observation.  She’s spent the last three months trying to _let go_ and forget, overwhelmed by self-hatred and unfathomable guilt, plagued by anger.  _Let go?_   Yeah, she’d love to be able to do that. 

He smirks, “Just for a while.” 

“And what do you suggest?”  

“I _suggest_ that you do exactly that.  Let go.  And I’ll take care of you.” 

“How?” 

His voice drops lower, sending a shiver through her body as he tells her, “I’ll take you in every way you can imagine… I’ll fuck you, make you come until you can’t even remember your own name.”

Clarke feels suddenly lightheaded at his obscene promises, but manages to utter a breathless “ _Please_ …” 

Roan offers his hand.  She takes it and allows him to pull her into a standing position.  Water drips down her body as she awaits his cue for what she should do.  Her wet hair covers her breasts, and she takes a moment to marvel at the length attained in just a few short months on the ground.  He nods to the side and she steps carefully out of the tub, taking the cloth he offers and patting her face and neck dry.  His imposing figure stands to the side while she wrings the wetness out of her hair and towels the rest of her body off.  When she’s sufficiently dry, she finally looks up at him with a cocked eyebrow.  She notes with satisfaction the heat in his eyes as he inspects her clean, naked form. 

His voice is low and vibrates through her, “I’m not going to stop until you tell me to stop.”   

“Are you going to hurt me?” 

He shakes his head, “No.  I won’t consent to that, and I won’t ask you to do so, either.” 

She has no doubt that if she calls for him to stop, he will respect her wishes.  She nods, “Okay.  I’ll say ‘stop’ if I need to.” 

“Good.”  There is a salacious glint in his eye when he tells her to drop the towel and follow him back into the other room.  Rather than walk her to the bed, he halts their strides when they reach the table.  She’s startled and falls a step back when he spins around to face her, his eyes ravenous.  He looks her over briefly before he steps in between her feet and looms over her in a manner she finds incredibly arousing.  He looks down where he cups her heavy breasts in his palms, kneads them, and squeezes them together.  The sensation of his calloused thumbs as the flick over her nipples is too much for her, and she cries out in bliss as she loses her balance, only to be caught by his strong arm wrapped around her back. 

He studies her face with amusement, “Careful, there.” 

Clarke huffs an unsteady laugh, “I’m good. You should, um…” She clears her throat, “You should do that again.” 

Roan smirks, “Oh, I intend to.”  He pivots them and walks Clarke backward until her ass hits the edge of a table.  Without missing a beat, he lifts her onto it, leaving her feet dangling over the edge while he sweeps the table clear with his free arm.   That’s the last thought she can spare for the items that just went crashing to the floor, because now his hand is pressing against her chest in a very distracting way.  He pushes until she’s flat on her back, then steps back to inspect her.  She writhes under his stare, increasingly desperate for some kind of contact as he amusedly watches her frustration. 

Well, if he’s not going to do anything, she’ll take matters into her own hands…  With a moan, she kneads at her breasts and delights in his darkened gaze.  He narrows his eyes and wrenches her knees wide apart, then steps between them and traps her wrists in his large (and _oh god,_ so strong) hands.  She struggles against him and desire surges through when she finds herself unable to escape his strong grip. 

He shakes his head in admonishment, “When the King of Azgeda promises to take care of you, it is best that you do not doubt his follow-through.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, “Are you going to call yourself ‘King’ all night?” 

Roan smirks, “No, Wanheda.  That is how _you_ will address me tonight.” 

Her tone is sharp, “Don’t call me that.” 

“Clarke, then.” 

She nods her approval, “And the ‘King’ thing is just for tonight?” 

He nods, “Just for tonight.” 

“Fine.” 

He releases a wrist and pinches the side of her breast.  Clarke understands her mistake immediately.  “Yes, _King._ ”

He smirks, “That’s better.” 

She would roll her eyes again, but she’s indescribably turned on by his conditions… He pins her wrists above her head and crosses one over the other, then squeezes them in his fist to direct her attention. 

His frame looms over her, his lips just an inch from her own, “Don’t move them.” 

She doesn’t miss the glimmer of triumph in his eyes when her whole body shivers in response.  She closes her eyes and yields to the sensations of his rough fingertips as they abrade the sensitive undersides of her arms.  His calloused fingers dance circles around her breasts, skillfully avoiding her nipples, which are so, _so_ desperate for attention.  She cries out when she feels a wet warmth engulf one of the now-stiff peaks, whimpers when he laves his tongue softly over it.  But _fuck,_ when he sinks his teeth into her, she feels it like a live wire straight to her throbbing clit. 

Motivated by her cries, he mimics his treatments on her other breast, pulling even more desperate sounds from her lips.  Soon, she finds it’s not enough.  She rolls her hips against him and gasps at the friction of his clothing against her bare cunt.  When she opens her eyes, she is trapped in place by his [demanding] gaze.  There is something truly erotic about him being fully clothed while she’s completely naked, spread out on the table in front of him like a feast ready to be devoured (he had _better_ devour her).  She grasps the edge of the table behind her and arches her back, thrusts herself against him to spur him on. 

It works like a fucking charm.

His mouth travels down her body licking, biting, sucking a heated pathway from her neck down to her cunt.  With a hungry gaze, he spreads her open with his thumbs and drops his face to hover above her heat.  She shudders when she feels his breath against her pussy, dripping with her arousal.  He doesn’t make her wait long before he licks her slit from bottom to top, stopping just short of her clit, trapped tightly between his fingers but throbbing with need.  He drags his tongue against her harder with each pass until he’s plunged into her heat. 

“Fuck, that’s…” She can’t quite verbalize anything when the air is stolen from her lungs as his strong muscle massages at her inner walls.  His deep growls reverberate through while he fucks into her, and holy shit, she’s glad she left her room tonight. 

He pulls back and replaces his tongue with two fingers.  He crooks them inside of her _just right_ and she feels a deep, rumbling pleasure coil in her abdomen.  But before she can truly indulge in the sensations, he pulls them out, sopping with her arousal, and draws down between her cheeks, right to- _oh_ … She feels his wet finger just _barely_ graze the ultrasensitive puckered entrance to her ass.  He nips at her thigh and does it again and again, slightly harder each time, until she’s shuddering with each pass over her tense hole. 

Roan plunges his tongue back into her cunt, and she can’t help but feel like it _belongs there_ , writhing deeply into her and coaxing her higher and higher to the summit of pleasure.  It’s so strong… and long… and she isn’t sure exactly _how_ it’s reaching so far into her, but shit…  It doesn’t take long to wind her up, then he slows back down again.  She’s ready to complain about it, but then remembers she’s here to _let go…_

So she does. 

It’s an exquisite ebb and flow of bliss – He never lets up completely, just enough to draw her back from the edge… It’s brilliant.  Instead of sending her careening over the edge at the first available opportunity, he’s drawing it out.  As much as she craves that completion, as frustrating as it is to be pulled back just before reaching it, she finds she absolutely _loves_ the climbs to get there. 

Finally, he’s close to letting her go over.  Her body ferociously chases release, and she’s very nearly at the edge, but _something_ is missing.  Suddenly, he releases her clit, and the sudden rush of blood through the bundle of nerves is overwhelming.  She cries out as her pleasure peaks and and clenches down rhythmically on Roan’s tongue while he takes her through her climax.  His nose bumps her throbbing clit and her limbs jerk with each contact of the hypersensitive nub. 

Just when she thinks he’s finished, he braces her down with a strong hand over her pelvis as he closes his lips over her clit and sucks _hard._   She shrieks because it fucking hurts, but before she can bring herself to say _stop,_ he thrusts three fingers into her cunt, filling her up as he curls them in the very best way against her.  Gone are any tender or soft climbs toward climax.  No, this is a deliciously aggressive propulsion and by the time her mind catches up to what’s happening, her own hands are already kneading at her breasts, pulling harshly at her nipples in an effort to push herself all the way over.  He maintains an undulating but firm suction on her clit with his mouth as he shakes his head side to side.  She feels him _vibrate_ his hands against her as he crushes the flesh of her mons in his free hand and she is blissfully powerless against the orgasm that _crashes_ over her.  Her back arches off the table as her body escapes his strong hold and her throat lets go a wrecked, drawn-out cry. 

Just like that, her mind is blissfully empty.  Her body is limp, save for the muted aftershocks that surge through her at random while she comes back around.  He continues to softly lick at her as she comes back around.

Roan lets up and she opens her eyes to see his now-shirtless torso.  Her eyes are drawn to the healed wound on his lower abdomen, a result of her most recent attempt to kill him.  She sincerely hopes it won’t come to that again, especially considering just how useful he might be in the future.  Before her mind can get too caught up on that concept – _future_ – he’s unfastening his pants.  She finds herself unreasonably excited for what’s to come.  She lets her arm flop down on the table next to her and winces at the impact of her bone against the hard surface. 

He catches on immediately pulls her by the hand into a sitting position.

He nods over to the bed, “Walk over there.” 

When Clarke comes down off the table, she nearly loses her footing.  The recent onslaught of orgasms has left her legs somewhat… weak.  She catches her balance against the table.

He asks cautiously, “Are you able to keep going?” 

Clarke laughs with a nod, “My legs just need a moment to… recover.” 

Roan nods in understanding and Clarke doesn’t miss the self-congratulating smirk on his face.  She watches unabashed as he pulls his cock out while his pants drop to the floor.  A thrill shoots through her when he grasps himself in his hand, stroking his cock to full hardness while he rakes his gaze over her naked form.  After deciding her legs are steady enough, she turns and makes her way over to the bed, fully aware of the hungry way he watches her retreating form.  She smirks when she hears him pick up the pace to follow her.  By the time she gets to the edge of the bed, he’s on her.  His mouth attaches to her neck, her shoulders, everywhere.  He wraps one large hand around her hip while the other one comes up to knead at her breasts.  She leans back against him as he holds her body against his own and he takes over again, works her body over with precision that has her keening within minutes.  He turns her around and gently pushes her down onto the bed, then follows her down.  

His mouth explores her like he can’t get enough of her flesh and it makes her feel utterly consumed.  But just like before, it is soon not enough. 

The roughness of her own voice almost surprises her, “More…”

Roan rises to his knees with a heat in his eyes and she relaxes back into the mattress, wondering what exactly he’s going to do next.  Her gaze falls to his jutting cock, weeping with precome, and her mind races with excitement for what he’ll do with it.  He parts her legs wide and his fingers travel to her cunt.  Her breath hitches at his wicked grin when he feels how wet she is.  He brings his glistening fingers back to his mouth and sucks her arousal off of them, and she doesn’t bother to suppress a groan as she witnesses the act.  He plunges his fingers back into her and groans loudly when she clenches around them.  While he kneads at her breasts with his free hand, be scissors his fingers inside of her, exploring and stretching her walls.  She’s grateful that he takes the time to prepare her, because _fuck_ he’s bigger than anyone she’s been with.  He wraps his fingers, wet with her juices, around his cock. 

He strokes himself patiently and asks her, voice low and graveled, “Ready?” 

She nods, and isn’t even aware she’s touching herself until he catches her hand in his own and pins it by her head.  She brings her other hand to mirror it on the opposite side of her head, an obedient gesture that has an immediate effect on him.  He growls as he focuses his gaze back on her cunt and she feels herself clench at nothing in anticipation.  He doesn’t make her wait for long.  He guides his cock with his hand, drags it along her mound, taps it against her clit before coating himself in her slickness. 

They release harmonizing groans as he pushes into her.  For all his rough fondling and groping, she figured he’d thrust into her just as forcibly, but she finds she’s just as captivated by the slow penetration.  He busies his hands, glides them up her sides and catches her arms, grips her elbows and straightens them out above her.  She pictures herself, wonders what she looks like from his position.  Legs spread wide, arms stretched high, her pale skin hot and flushed under his stare.  She wraps her legs around his ass as he bottoms out inside of her.  He grinds against her clit, just enough to draw a gratified moan from her. 

Roan lights up a string of trigedasleng profanities as his eyes travel along her naked form.  His hands wrap themselves around her ribs underneath her breasts, then sweep up her sides so he can squeeze them together.  He remains unmoving inside of her while he watches her, as if he’s deciding just how he wants to fuck her, but she’s growing impatient.  She whines to that effect and, much to her delight, it seems to spur him into action.  Bracing his hand against her pelvis, he pulls out slowly.  Too slowly for Clarke’s liking. 

“Come _on…_ ”

He pointedly ignores her complaints, which (much to her annoyance) makes her crazy with want.  She rolls her hips to attain some friction, so he grips onto her and holds her still while he slowly pushes back in.  She groans, frustrated.  _What is she missing?_   He gives her a raised eyebrow as he pulls back out and _oh_ …

She sighs, _“King.”_ (It didn’t come out nearly as sarcastic as she meant for it to…)

Roan smirks and tightens his grip on her hips, then pulls her against him as he thrusts _hard_ back into her.  He fucks her in earnest after that.  He pins her down with his hands on her hips while he drives into her.  She’s unbelievably turned on by the stab of helplessness she feels as he holds her still.  He frees one hand to work her body over, groping, pulling, and twisting at her skin in the most satisfying ways.  The slapping of skin-on-skin rings in her ears, pleasure coils inside of her, twisting tighter and tighter until she has no choice but to let herself _go_. 

Her body goes completely tense while she cries out in ecstasy.  He groans loudly, undeniably gratified, when her cunt pulsates around his cock as he relentlessly fucks her through her orgasm.  She doesn’t get a chance to come down before he flips her onto her stomach and takes her from behind, using his hands to work her over until her entire body shakes with her climax. 

Clarke loses count of her orgasms once he turns her on her side.  When he finally comes, sending pulses of hot come deep inside of her, she is vaguely able to recall his promise to make her come so many times she forgets her name…  She has to smile at the near accuracy of the result.  He collapses next to her and they rest peacefully next to each other while they come back down to reality.  He covers both of their sated bodies with furs and she curls up against his body and allows her body succumb peacefully to sleep. 

* * *

 

Clarke opens her eyes and finds herself alone in Roan’s bed, squinting at the sunlight that enters the large room through the cracks in the curtains.  She can’t remember the last time she felt this well-rested.  She’s pretty sure the new King has already left Polis, on his way back home to Azgeda.  She knows that once she sits up, her own duties await as well.  She smiles.  For the first time in a long time, she feels clear-headed enough to face them. 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
